Feathers
by Taco Kickline
Summary: A dark look into the lives of a small group of  Anima. Rated T for death and violence.
1. Feathers

**Disclamer: I dont own +anima, and if i did, it wouldnt be on hiatus.**

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><p>Feathers. All she knew were feathers. She stared at the ground unblinking, only to see the beautiful white feathers lying in wet sticky piles of fresh blood. She stared down at her blood-covered hands, feeling empty and cold, trembling and shaking as fear and shock filled her amber colored eyes.<p>

She had been born a monster... She had been born with two extra sets of arms. She had been born with a feature called a +anima. When she was born she had taken the life of her mother. To top it all off her +anima wasn't normal, it wasn't natural. She was permanently stuck with six arms instead of two. As a cruel punishment her father had named her Nanza... So close to Ananzi... What people not-so-affectionately called her +anima in the wild.

She went through life trying desperately to win his affection. But he wanted nothing more than to be rid of her. He sent her away at the age of ten, to be married to a vile and cruel man who wanted to destroy her +anima. But no matter how hard her +anima had made her life, it was a part of her. She could never live without it.

So she fled. She ran from the man and his painful experiments, she ran from her father and his hatred, she ran until she couldn't anymore.

She found a small village near a forest. Maybe these people would be her friends? She was wrong. They treated her harshly, shunning her and throwing rotten food at her.

But Nanza didn't mind. The food was her lifeline. She was terrible at hunting for herself, and being so young didn't help the situation.

She stared at a small clearing of the forest she now affectionately called home, only to see a flock of ravens, cawing loudly and squabbling. She approached to see a large white raven protecting it's self from the vicious black ones. It looked weak, its red eyes glinted in desperation, and it's wing was bent at an awkward angle. Without even thinking, Nanza scared the black ravens away, brandishing six swords to frighten them. She quickly ripped some of her already tattered shirt, and made a splint for the white raven's wing. She cared for him, shared what little food and water she had with him, and talked and sang to him.

And all she knew were those white feathers.

Melrae she had named him. And he became her source of comfort. When his wing healed, he stayed with Nanza, often bringing back food for them to share, helping them both live.

Nanza smiled as she realized they were not so different. Just as Melrae was picked on for having feathers which were white, she was picked on for being a human with six arms. They were both shunned. Maybe that's why they got along so well. All was well for the two.

And all she ever felt were feathers.

A crash and a rustle and men burst through the bushes glaring at Nanza, they drew guns, the likes of which Nanza had never seen. She drew her six swords, but these men overwhelmed her, flashes of fire and suddenly one of her arms would no longer hold the sword, another flash of fire and her shoulder bled, stinging painfully. She fell at the third shot, which hit her in the leg, so she could no longer support herself. She was defeated. But to her shock, Melrae dived into the fray, screeching angrily, pecking feircely and clawing. She called out to him, a dazzling light of hope found it's way to her eyes, but the hope crashed away as the bird was smacked to the ground with the butt of a gun.

And all she could hear was a gunshot.

Before she knew what was happening, she had connected with the neck of the first soldier, biting him, then delivered similar bites to the rest of them. When the final men fell, Nanza walked as if in a trance, staring at Melrae, she could see his feathers.

Feathers. All she could see were feathers. She stared at the ground, unblinking, only to see the beautiful white feathers lying in wet sticky fresh puddles of blood. She stared at her blood covered hands, and found herself methodically burying all of the men and Melrae. It wasn't until she had finished burying the last soldier that she realized what she had done. She heaved what little contents of her stomach still existed onto the ground, and stared at the graves, numb.

Only when she realized she had killed people who may have had families did she cry, collapsing in a pile of dirt.

Pain... All she knew was pain, and hunger.

No one came to visit her, ever since the soldiers had died, she hadn't moved from the spot. She was too weak to. She sat bleeding, her wounds painful and throbbing, her head hung with her light, almost whitish blonde hair cascading down her face, covering everything but her lifeless amber eyes. She shivered as hunger gnawed her belly, feeling light-headed.

She wondered when death would claim her at last.

Out of the corner of her eye, a very handsome young man appeared. He had gentle blonde hair styled wildly like a mane, and his eyebrows looked like feathers. But then, everything looked like feathers to Nanza these days. She had to blink furiously when she noticed the pure white wings on his back. They were pure and clean, and they haunted her. He held out his hand to her with a sad smile.

And all she knew were those feathers. The white ones, falling around this handsome man with a gentle gust of wind.

An angel, surely he had come to take her away from this life. She gripped his hand and allowed him to lift her gently into his arms. He showed not even a hint of shock or awe at her extra arms, but instead smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkled, his wings grew larger, and he hugged her close, she felt all of her fears and pain escape her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he took to the sky, leaving everything behind.

"All I have ever known is feathers..."

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><p>Thanks to Blizzard for being awesome and allowing me to steal one of her OC characters to fill in at the end. ^.^<p> 


	2. Singing

Dislcaimer: I dont own anima, if i did i would be rich.

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><p>All he could hear was their singing.<p>

His parents had died when he was young, leaving him, Kan in charge of his little sister. He had to get a job, but at his age, no one would hire him. He grew desperate, selling anything he could get his hands on to keep him and his sister alive. But despite all of his hard work, it wasn't enough, and they were tossed out on the street. The young man cried out in pain and frustration as the deaths played themselves over and over in his head. Why? Why hadn't it been him? He was willing, oh so willing to trade his life for theirs. Why hadn't he been strong enough?

In these times of darkness, it gave him comfort to hear them singing.

He could remember his parents, they had taught him right from wrong, left from right. Through good times and bad they had stood beside him, through thick and thin. No matter how many times he argued or stormed off, they had always kept their arms open, welcoming him home with smiles and warmth. At the time he had taken it for granted. He had regrets. The last day he had seen his mother he had been rude to her, impatient and aloof. Like a teenager should be. He had yelled at her, they had fought, and he had told his mother he hated her. He had a similar fight with his father, telling him he was leaving forever.

And he could hear them screaming.

They had died so suddenly. A freak accident, the doctor had said. But he knew better. It was all his fault. He had cursed them and left them to die. The two of them had been so alive just a few hours ago, it broke his heart to know they were dead. They looked so alive, even sitting there on the tables, the white cloth covering all but their faces. They didn't look as if a house had collapsed on them, they didn't look dead. Yet here they were, lifeless.

And he could hear them start to whisper.

Kan would often give up his own food so his sister, so she would not go hungry. He grew thinner, gaunt, a skeleton of his former self. He tried not to let his weakness show to his sister. He needed to be strong for her, he needed to protect her. And they survived on sheer willpower. But that all changed when his sister grew sick.

In his mind he could imagine them crying.

He watched as she slowly died before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do. He left her food, but she couldn't eat. He stole medicine for her, but it didn't work. He sang to her as he held her in his arms, but she couldn't hear him in her fever. He did everything he could, but nothing seemed to help.

And he could hear their sobbing grow louder.

Kan blamed only himself as she died. He should have done something more, maybe she wouldn't have died. He buried her and fled from his home, angling into the forest. As he passed the trees he felt his mind buzzing and his vision swam, a flash out of the corner of his eyes lead to a giant cat, unlike anything he'd ever seen, attacking him. It was massive and mostly orangish tan, its mane was a ferocious brown, and its dark eyes glinted with hatred. Its claws connected with his body, and as he fell, his eyes widened and he realized. I don't want to die. He reached his hands to the white bird flying in the sky and the pain left his body.

And now all he could hear were their screams.

When he opened his eyes, he was alone, the Lion was gone, and pure white wings had sprouted from his back. He spread the wings wide and took to the sky, leaving everything behind. He had soon come upon a young man, with an ability like his, only he became a Kangaroo. They decided to start a small group of people like them, and slowly gathered supporters. Kan would go out every night and look for people like them.

And all he could hear were their whispers.

He flew over the land, and stopped as he saw a young woman. At the first sight of her the breath left his body. She had long blonde hair, a beautiful and sad face, and red eyes. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, but he could see extra arms hanging from her sides. She had six arms. His eyes softened, and he landed, only to notice the bloody carnage. The ground looked freshly dug in one area, and a small rock marked 'Melrae' sat in full view. Around the tiny grave were men, they had fallen into puddles of their own blood. Kan noticed the blood was on the six swords that hung at this girl's side. She had glazed eyes, now that he approached, he saw she had terrible, deadly gunshot wounds. He held out a hand to her, and she gripped it, the fever in her head and eyes making her blind to everything else. He lifted her to his chest and took off, urgency in his once blank gaze. He felt oddly connected to this young woman.

And he could still hear them humming.

He carried her to his friend, who was carving rocks by a tree, and explained the situation. His friend looked worried and lead him to a nearby hospital. Kan placed the woman down on the bed, watching with worry as they cared for her. He barely registered his kangaroo friend leaving the room, and instead watched over the young woman. She finally awoke, and relief filled his eyes. She told him her name, Nanza, and asked if she was in heaven. He answered in the negative, relief flooding in his eyes. It took her a few months to stand again, months he was focused on her and nothing else.

But no matter how hard he tried to forget, their singing haunted him still.

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><p>A.N: Thanks to Blizzard for letting me use her character again. :3<p> 


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